Blood Tells
by Levana Fay
Summary: After a car accident leaves Harry alone in the world once again, he is shipped off to live with his last remaining blood relative. Eventual Jibbs.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Blood tells

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or NCIS.

Rating: T - for brief mentions of physical abuse of a child.

Summary: After a car accident leaves Harry alone in the world once again, he is shipped off to live with his last remaining blood relative. Eventual Jibbs. This is my first story touching upon child abuse, so I would appreciate any insights into what Harry's behaviour would be like.

A.N.: I have a poll on my profile page, I would appreciate your vote on which stories you would like to see finished first as I have quite a few ongoing ones and limited time for writing. ;)

* * *

Vernon Dursley sighed angrily; he'd had enough. He and his wife, Petunia, had had a perfectly normal life. They had been happily married, they'd had a modestly large house with a pure white fence and perfectly manicured lawn and their bouncing baby boy had been the light of their lives. His only concern had been getting to work every day and providing for his family. Seven years ago to the day, Petunia's nephew had arrived on their doorstep and their normal life had been irrevocably destroyed.

As if sensing the turn of his uncle's thoughts, the gangly, scruffy boy hastily tried to pat down his messy black hair and blend in with the car's upholstery. Vernon's lip curled in distaste. The boy had been a menace from the moment he had arrived, squawking in the early hours of the morning, waking up the entire street! He hadn't even been given to them in the proper manner. Left on a doorstep! What sort of person would do such a thing?

Vernon was proud to say he was a respectable person, so he had allowed the child into his home and had allowed Petunia to change and feed him, but that was all a respectable person ought to have been asked to do. To then find that the child that had been abandoned on his property was the son of Petunia's sister and that they had to -_had to!_- take him in had enraged him. The nerve of that Dumbledore person!

Vernon gripped the steering wheel tighter, in an attempt to reign in his temper. No one had asked him if he had wanted to take in the boy, no one had asked him if he could afford to feed and clothe another child. There had been no option to refuse either, as Petunia had fearfully pointed out. They had m-, well... more -influence- than he did, which they wouldn't hesitate to use in order to get their way.

Their perfectly normal life had fallen down around them; their marriage was hanging by a thread, their house was too crowded and every day Vernon watched his son Dudley closely for any sign that the freak had contaminated him. It was his greatest fear, and to that end he had attempted to ensure it would never happen. The boy was kept as far from Dudley as possible and locked in his cupboard during the night. He was taught the value of hard manual work so he wouldn't ever think of waving a hand and- no. Just no.

Despite his best efforts however, the boy still managed to slip up, to do something freakish. Today was the last straw. Parents evening had come to an end after a gruelling hour of listening to the boy's misdeeds, his freakishness manifesting itself even around other innocent children. It had to stop. He clenched his jaw and looked into the rear-view mirror, catching sight of the boy sneaking fearful glances at him. He knew very well what was coming once he got him home.

It didn't happen often, but when it did he made sure it made a lasting impression. At first he had simply used his hand, a dozen swats to the backside or the legs. When it had become apparent that that wasn't working he had started to use a slipper instead. Somehow, and he wasn't quite sure how, it had escalated to a full beating. It had gotten more frequent too. He didn't want to do it, but he had to.

He knew that if anyone found out he could be in a lot of trouble, but they didn't know what he knew. They couldn't grasp that the boy would grow up to become a monster, just like all of the other freaks. They wouldn't see that he was protecting his family, and by extension everyone, from the boy's evil. They couldn't and wouldn't see that he was taking this evil upon himself so that no one else would have to suffer by the boy's hand. He glanced into the mirror again and resolutely told himself to make this time count. He had to be taught that his actions had consequences; nasty ones.

Vernon hadn't bought the story Dumbledore had spun about an evil w- man starting a war and killing hundreds, coincidentally including the boy's parents but not the boy himself. Preposterous. Where was the evidence of that? If there had been a war on, everyone would have known about it. No, Vernon had a pretty shrewd idea of what had really happened that night. The boy, at one year old, had killed his own parents with his freakishness. Well, he had no intention of letting the boy do the same to _his_ family.

So caught up was he in his ruminations, that Vernon never saw the truck that hit his car, killing him and Dudley instantly.

* * *

Harry Potter slowly blinked, trying his hardest to stay awake so he could watch America appear beneath the plane. It had been a long flight, and Harry was exhausted from the whirlwind of activity following his Aunt Petunia's death in hospital. Two weeks after the crash they had still been waiting for her to awaken from her coma. She hadn't and had slipped away during the night. Harry had been staying in an adjoining room, recovering from his own injuries, when his aunt's heart monitor announcing her death had awoken him.

The authorities had had no idea what to do with him. For some odd reason they had thought that he hadn't been living with his aunt and uncle. He had assured them that he had, and when the School had backed him up they had relented. Harry had thought it odd, but then his relatives had preferred it when he pretended very hard not to be there. He hoped that, wherever they were now, they were pleased with how successful he had been.

He sighed and sat back in his seat. He had had a stressful few weeks. Harry had regained consciousness the day after the crash and one of the first things his doctor had asked him about, were his bruises. He hadn't answered him truthfully though, he knew better. Uncle Vernon had made it very clear what would happen if he told anyone, and even with his uncle apparently no longer around he adhered to the rules. He'd told his doctor that he'd got them in the crash and had refused to listen when the doctor insisted they were older than that. The doctor had told him that he'd had several fractured bones that had set without medical care, too. Harry already knew that though, so why were they telling him?

After the doctors had ascertained that aunt Petunia would be in a coma for a long while, the Child services woman, Mrs Tyler, had asked him if he knew of any other living relatives that he could stay with until she woke up. He had answered no. Aunt Marge wasn't a blood relative and she hated him so she didn't count. They had told him they were going to have to check thoroughly and eventually they had found him another aunt that he would have to live with. He hadn't minded when they had told him, it would only have been for a little while after all. Then aunt Petunia had died.

Harry turned so that he was completely facing the window and rested his head against it, staring out at the vast blue ocean. He missed them. They were his family, they had taken him in when he'd had no one, fed him, clothed him, put a roof over his head and tried to turn him into a good person. He felt a tear roll down his cheek and he swiped it away before the Mrs Tyler noticed it. He didn't want to have to listen to her questions about his 'feelings' or 'experiences' relating to his uncle. Sure they had been harsh with him, but he understood that his uncle hadn't wanted to hurt him. He understood that he had brought it on himself and that seeing the consequences through would make him a better person. He knew he deserved it.

He had also known what to expect with the Dursleys', but this new aunt Jenny, he didn't know her at all. No one had mentioned her, as far as he knew he only had two aunts, Petunia and Marge. She didn't even live in England, which was why he was on a plane. She lived in the US, so he was forced to give up everything familiar to him so he could go live with her. Harry was scared to think of what would happen to him in America. What if she didn't like him? Was that why she had never visited or sent post cards or Christmas cards? What would she think of his freakishness? Would she let him stay in her cupboard under the stairs or would she send him to an orphanage?

"Nearly there now, Harry, how are you doing? Feeling sick?" Mrs Tyler asked him kindly. He shook his head no, and continued to stare out the window. Mrs Tyler was accompanying him to America where he and his paper work would then be handed over to their Child services and then taken to meet his aunt Jenny. He was very nervous, but he knew better than to let anyone see it.

Land approached on the horizon and Harry concentrated on trying to see buildings before they appeared so that he wouldn't have to think about the inevitable meeting.

* * *

Craig Hewitt casually glanced over the file in his hands once more while he waited for the plane to unload its passengers. **Harry James Potter** was stamped on the front of the folder and he carefully kept it facing his body, so no one could accidently read it, just to be safe.

What he had seen of this case was appalling and he knew he only held the basics of it in his hands; the full case file would be delivered to him by the boy's Child Services officer when she arrived. Harry Potter, the saviour of the Wizarding World, had once again been the only survivor of a tragic event. Tragic, but according to the notes he held, perhaps for the best.

The family he had been staying with, his maternal Aunt Petunia Dursley nee Evans and her husband and son, had abused him. The file was careful not to say how, or perhaps they simply didn't know the extent of it, but it was as clear as day from the pictures that the police had taken of the cupboard under the stairs. The cupboard where The Boy Who Lived had spent his childhood. The cupboard with a bolt on the outside.

He heard the disillusioned officers behind him shuffle their feet in boredom and he sighed audibly to cover it up. The four wizards were part of the Office of Magical Immigration, or OMI. There had been a lot of Harry Potters trying to gain access to the country over the years, men and women polyjuiced into small black haired boys with thick framed glasses. Usually these witches and wizards were trying to flee from the British Ministry of Magic justice system, or were attempting to take advantage of the young boy's fame. None had made it past the OMI.

Passengers began spilling out of the arrivals terminal and Craig straightened up and pushed off from the wall. There he was. Young Harry Potter, if that was indeed who he really was, stared at his feet as he trailed along beside a middle aged woman, dragging his suitcase forlornly behind him. Craig strode toward the duo, striding fluidly and slowly so it was easy for the OMI officers to step in time with him.

"Hello, Mr Hewitt, is it?" the woman asked, holding out her hand. He took it with a smile, feeling a slight disturbance in the air by him as the OMI officers did their thing, attempting to find any signs of subterfuge coming from the boy. Craig dragged the moment out a little by asking after her health, family and finally Mr Potter. The OMI officers tapped him surreptitiously on the shoulder twice; all clear. Now they became guards until they were dismissed, which would be when Harry was handed over to his aunt.

"Here is Mr Potter's file. I'll be happy to discuss with you any concerns you have." The lady, Mrs Tyler, said formally.

"Thank you. Now, if you'll follow me we can chat in the car on the way to his aunt's workplace." Craig replied, taking the file and sweeping his arm towards the exit.

"She isn't meeting us here?" Mrs Tyler asked, frowning while her eyes scanned the crowd. Craig shrugged. They hadn't informed her of Harry's impending visit in case it was a hoax, but one of the OMI officers would have sent a message by now, so one of the muggle officials would be getting hold of her and explaining the situation while they drove over.

"As head of a Federal Agency she has a very important job and is usually in meetings for most of the day." He explained, and Mrs Tyler inclined her head in understanding. Craig smiled at Harry, who glanced at him only briefly and then returned to staring at the ground.

Now that Craig was really looking at him he realised that Potter was quite small for an eight year old, skinny too. They made their way outside and Craig helped Harry place his luggage in the boot of the car and then they got in, buckled up and set off. The OMI officers would fly on their brooms just overhead of the car. It wasn't a long car journey from Dulles to the Navy Yard, but he intended to study the file he had been given before the handover.

Almost from the first page he was shaken. They believed he had been beaten by his uncle, that they starved him, kept him in away from family life by locking him away in his cupboard -_his_ cupboard!- and suppressed his learning. Teachers had apparently recalled his enthusiasm on the first few days at school before a dramatic fall in class participation and work quality. If the Wizarding World knew about how he had been treated, even over here in America there would be an uproar. War with England hadn't exactly been on the minds of any Magical citizen, so when Harry had, deliberately or not, stopped the mad dark wizard's rise, America had breathed a collective sigh of relief. They owed the boy a debt of gratitude. England owed him more... and this was how they allowed him to be treated?

Mrs Tyler added her own observations when he silently showed her one of the photos taken by Harry's doctor of the bruising on his back_. He was quiet, reserved and jumpy. He didn't like large open spaces with lots of people in, possible beginnings of mild paranoia. His every move was controlled as if he feared doing something wrong._ Craig sat back attempting to hide how shocked he was. Surely there had been someone from the magical community checking up on him? A muggle Social worker perhaps? The file told him that there hadn't, that Harry had been left alone with people who were supposed to help him, love him, but had hurt him. The rest of the journey was spent in silence.

* * *

A.N.2: I worked out that Jenny is 3 years younger than Lily Potter (Lauren Holly's (Jenny's) birthday is in 1963, Lily's is in 1960 according to the wiki) so it _is_ plausible. ;) How they are related will be revealed next chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or NCIS.

A.N.: Thank you to Zlatka, raspberry dreams, 1eragon33, NotaFro, exaigon, RRW, Moon Gibbs Potter, alix33, Kage 5243, ctc, DumuNamLu2U19Lu and unregistered persons Me, Phoenix 5 and beth peschke for reviewing! Also thank you to the 68 people who have added this story to their Favourites and the 153 people who have put it on Alert!

A.N.2: I'd like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that Jenny has no knowledge of magic and that Harry doesn't know he has magic, just a freakishness that he is terrified of because of what his uncle has done to him. It may be a while before Harry displays any accidental magic. Huge thanks to 1eragon33 for your advice!

* * *

Director Jenny Shepard stared in disbelief at the Officer from Child services, Aiden Crawley, sat opposite her, her mind struggling to process what he had just told her. She wasn't, as she had believed all of her life, an only child. She had sisters. Correction: _had_ had sisters, they were both dead.

Apparently, both of these women had met their end in car crashes, albeit with seven years between them, they had had their husband and child with them, and both crashes had left one survivor; her nephew Harry Potter. Harry had no family left to provide for him, none except her; the absolute stranger who'd never heard of him. It was entirely unbelievable. Jenny pursed her lips and sat back in her chair, shaking her head slowly.

"I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. I don't have family in England, I don't have sisters and I certainly don't have a nephew." She told him carefully, lacing her voice with amusement so he'd give up the joke. If he was serious however, she could only hope that her certainty would convince him that he had the wrong woman. Aiden ducked his head and smiled.

"I understand your hesitance to believe what I'm saying, Director, but it's all true. We checked and then double checked to make sure this wasn't simply a case of mistaken identity. It wasn't. This boy IS your nephew." He emphasised, tapping his finger on the folder that he had brought with him. Her disbelieving expression remained unchanged. Aiden sighed and apparently decided to try a different approach. "I understand that your mother left when you were young."

"That's right." She replied, not liking where he was taking the conversation at all. She already knew everything she wanted to about her mother, her father had made his opinions of her very clear every time Jenny had asked what she was like.

"I pulled your father's marriage record, any birth certificates he was named on and his divorce record." He flipped open the file he had brought with him, withdrew a certificate and then placed it before her. "Mr Jasper Shepard married a miss Elizabeth Rouse in 1958. Miss Rouse was living in America, but she was born in England." Jenny watched uneasily as he withdrew three other papers from the file and laid them on the desk. "The first birth certificate was for a miss Petunia Shepard in 1959, the second was for a miss Lily Shepard in 1960 and the third was for you, miss Jennifer Shepard in 1963." He said, tapping each in turn.

Jenny frowned and sat forward in her seat, her eyes raking over each certificate before her. This wasn't right. It couldn't be, could it? Surely her father would have mentioned the fact that she had _sisters_. Aiden allowed her to look them over before he continued.

"The divorce certificate is dated 1964, the cause cited is adultery... on your mothers part. It seemed that the eldest daughter was not in fact your father's." He told her gently, obviously unsure about how she would react to the news her mother had had another man's child. Jenny rolled her eyes, _that_ was in keeping with what her father had said about her mother's trustworthiness. Verified a few of the names, too.

"Why wasn't the birth certificate altered with the real father's name?" She asked, hoping that it had been.

"I'm not sure." He shrugged and then pulled yet another certificate out of his file. "The divorce settlement proposed by your father was for the usual division of estate and custody of both of his daughters, however Elizabeth _also_ wanted full custody of her daughters, which resulted in a compromise being proposed by the judge. Elizabeth would take Lily, and Jasper would take you, who at the time was young enough for the separation from your mother to be forgotten." he then pulled another few sheets out of the folder and placed them before her.

"That's unusual. Why didn't the judge give full custody to my mother?"

"The fact that it was your mother who had been unfaithful probably helped your father's case." he replied. "Anyway, Elizabeth then went back to England where she lived with her parents for a time until she married a Mr Alexander Evans." He said, tapping another marriage certificate. "She then altered Petunia and Lily's last names with her own."

Jenny looked over all of the certificates unhurriedly, searching for anything in them that indicated a forgery. Her mind, however, was in overdrive. How could she have not known this? She couldn't remember her mother, but from what her father had told her of the woman, she hadn't ever felt the need to do so. That he could have kept her sisters from her was unthinkable, yet here was the evidence. Perhaps he had meant to tell her at some point. What did it matter though, really? If Mr Crawley was to be believed, they were all dead now. All except Harry.

Jenny sighed and sat back a little, running a hand through her short red hair. The timing of this really couldn't be worse; she was close, closer than she had ever been, to taking down La Grenouille once and for all and suddenly a nephew is thrust in to her life. Terrible timing for her... but great timing for La Grenouille.

She frowned, could this all be an elaborate plot to keep her attention focussed elsewhere to allow him to slip away again? Was this boy really her nephew, or a plant? If he was her nephew, then the timing of his guardian's deaths could suggest they were supposed to be some sort of warning for her to back off. Too bad for La Grenouille that they had meant nothing to her.

That still left her with the dilemma of the child. Should she take him in? She didn't want to, she had dedicated about a decade of her life to chasing the French arms dealer down. She had sacrificed too much, she couldn't afford to let anything get in the way now. But what if Harry really was family?

"I'm not so sure I'm the best choice to take him." She said finally, shaking her head and pushing all of the papers, which she was forced to admit were genuine, back towards Aiden. "I have a very dangerous job; I am a target to any terrorist wanting to send a message; it would be reckless to put a child in the firing line. I also work long hours, too long to be an effective care giver." He picked up the papers, replaced them in his file and then pinned her with his gaze.

"You would hardly the only single parent to work long hours; your own father did, as did mine and I dare say we both turned out well. Please don't misunderstand me, Director, we aren't asking you to put your job at risk to look after him, I'm sure your superiors would understand." he held up a placating hand to cut off her objection. "As for being a target; you have a security detail to watch out for your safety; Harry would be much safer with you than without you. Those same terrorists would be able to find your connection to him whether he was sharing your protection or not." She huffed silently as he pushed his advantage, reminding her of her previous thought about Harry's guardians' deaths.

"We greatly prefer that a child remains with blood relatives over orphanages or foster families. If you don't take him in, he will end up in one of those places. Every child that lives in a _loving_ home has a better start in life than those that don't, and Harry's life has already been terribly poor. So you see, you _are_ the best choice." Jenny stared right back at him, refusing to allow him to guilt her in to taking the child in.

"I don't know this boy, he doesn't know me and I am not a mother, I have no real experience with children. I can't guarantee he wouldn't be better off in an orphanage." she warned. Her job had been her priority for a long time, catching La Grenouille was her top priority now. How would she fit Harry in to that picture? Would she be able to?

"At least _meet_ your nephew before you decide." he hedged. Jenny's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Usually estranged family members are given a few days to get to know the child before being burdened with them. There must be a serious reason why you are pushing this so hard." she stated frankly, revealing her knowledge gained by dealings with Child services during NCIS cases. Aiden winced at her wording, but nodded.

"You're right, and there is one more delicate matter that I need to tell you about." he took a deep breath as if he was attempting to fortify himself for what he was about to impart. "It is believed your nephew was abused by his uncle." Jenny's eyebrows rose in surprise. That should have been one of the first things he told her, surely? Then again he had spent most of the meeting trying to convince her she was related to them, so perhaps not. The poor boy had been through a lot in his short life.

"Only his uncle? Did his aunt know? How bad was it?" she asked worriedly.

"The extent of the abuse is currently unknown until he talks about it, but the Child Services Officer in charge of Harry's case has accompanied him here and has brought everything they do know and suspect with her. She will be able to give you the specifics of what they could glean of Harry's home and school life." Jenny nodded distractedly as a lead weight seemed to settle in her stomach. It was all a bit much to take in right now. Her recently dead sister, Petunia, had allowed her husband to abuse the child of her other long dead sister, Lily. Should she be angry with Petunia or ashamed? Should she be upset that both women were dead? She resolved to simply be glad Harry was away from his abuser, and think about the rest later.

"When will he arrive?" she enquired tiredly, glancing at her schedule on the computer screen beside her. She may not know anything about bringing up a child, but she understood from child cases she had worked in the past that she would need help if the abuse had been serious. She considered asking Ducky to assess the boy when he eventually arrived, or perhaps she could squeeze in a call to a child psychologist before lunch to enquire about what she should expect...

"In a minute or two." Aiden replied, almost guiltily. Alarmed, Jenny's head whipped back around to face him.

"He's already in the country?" she asked, annoyed at being kept in the dark for so long. Aiden shrugged and nodded.

"The Child services officer in charge of his case wanted it resolved as soon as possible. We weren't even aware of the case until this morning, and my superiors didn't give it to me until an hour ago." he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Apparently the British Child Services said they want him 'settled in a stable, beneficial environment as soon as possible'. I got here as soon as the case graced my desk." he smiled apologetically and Jenny fought the urge to grimace.

They didn't want to hurt her job, right? So dumping him on her in the middle of a working day without proper forewarning was ok? She'd have to take him home right away and be forced to reschedule several important conference calls. Well, either that or leave him in her office or with one of her agents while she went about her day as normal, which would be a terrible first impression because he'd be effectively ignored. She didn't even have anything at home for a child, let alone a boy of eight. The intercom buzzed and her assistant Cynthia's voice floated out to her, distracting her from her increasingly anxious thoughts.

"_Director, you have three visitors from Child Services waiting to see you._"

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was many things; intelligent and academic, a Master Alchemist, a fantastic duellist, incredibly observant and controlled, philosophical, single, old, eccentric, the most powerful Wizard in England, perhaps the world.

There were some things he, of course, wasn't; weak, senile, absent minded, a father, a fool, infallible. He had had a long life, he'd seen and done amazing things and had had a long, successful and fulfilling career. He'd held many positions of power, still did hold some, and he'd turned down the chance to lead the country so he could avoid temptation and continue doing what he loved; teaching and protecting the next generations of Witches and Wizards.

Some days however, he viewed his life in harsher terms. He was alone, he'd neglected his family and been betrayed by his love and had been forced to kill him, because no one else had come close to rivalling their power. He'd become a teacher to root out evil, and had instead somehow instilled it in one of his most impressionable and talented pupils. When that pupil had walked the forbidden path, instead of bringing him back he had done nothing, hoping he would see the light. Every atrocity Tom had unleashed on the world could be laid squarely at Albus' door, and someday he feared that everyone would see it.

And now... now he could add betraying James and Lily Potter to his achievements, he thought sardonically. He held in his hands the little crystal ornament of a stag, an impish gift from James Potter which Albus had charmed to be his alarm that told him the status of the blood wards at 4 Privet Drive. Usually it shone with a dim sickly yellow light, as it always had since the wards had been cast. Now it was a deep blood red. The wards had failed.

Albus had been doing the rounds at his various positions of power, which had taken some weeks. The despondent red gleam had been what had greeted him upon his return. Immediately he had flooed Arabella Figg, expecting to be told of an attack by remnant Death Eaters. That her cold fury was directed at him had shocked him, apparently she had been trying to get hold of him for two weeks, but being a squib had left her without an effective means of contacting him. Her fury had quickly ebbed to grief and she had poured out the whole sorry story as she knew it.

He sighed and gently placed the stag on his desk. A car crash. The Dursleys' were all dead and Harry was gone, disappeared in to the muggle world without a way to track him. Dumbledore himself had seen to disabling The Trace so that none of his enemies, some of whom worked at the Ministry, could find the boy before his majority. By then, he had thought, he would be under Albus' protection and his wand would have had a trace that only he could find. That plan was in shambles and Harry was lost and unprotected, except for the protection in his blood, of his person from Tom.

Worse, Arabella had told him of some muggle society called Social Workers going door to door asking neighbours what they knew of Harry and to describe how the Dursley's had treated him. She had told them what she knew; Harry was a polite, good, hard working boy. He was a little reclusive and not very popular with the other children, which she had told them was because his cousin was a bully. She had used her babysitting of Harry to convince the Social Worker she had spoken to, to tell her why they were investigating the Dursley's. She had been appalled to hear what they had apparently done to him, what the closer neighbours had described.

Albus put his head in his hands, his mind racing. He had kept an eye on Harry, Arabella had given him monthly reports about his activities. Nothing he had heard had suggested abuse to him. When she'd told him that Harry worked in the garden most of the day come rain or shine, he'd believed he simply liked gardening, that he had a keen interest in plants that would translate to skill in Herbology.

When Arabella had told him of the care and concentration that Harry displayed when helping her to cook (and insisting he could do it all for her), he had merely interpreted it to mean Harry had inherited Lily's skill with potions preparation. His skinny stature was so reminiscent of James that it hadn't even factored into his considerations. His baggy clothes? Well, not all families are well off and young boys often destroyed clothes in short order with their games.

Fawkes flew from his perch to Albus's shoulder, singing in a slow, uplifting warble. The majestic Phoenix rested its head against his temple, soothing away the guilt that had taken up residence in his friends' mind, reminding him that the past was just that, and that Harry was still alive. All they had to do was find him.

* * *

A.N.3: This is set in late season 4 of NCIS, so Jenny is not being cruel by not really wanting to take Harry in; she just has a lot of responsibilities, had no idea she had any family left alive (which is a shock she will have to overcome before she can really accept Harry) and her single minded focus on catching La Grenouille has taken over. She's erratic and ruthless, but the season 5 episode Lost and Found shows she can be an excellent care giver. That episode is after the La Grenouille story arc was resolved though, so just keep in mind that is there, just eclipsed by her current need for revenge for her father. :)


End file.
